


it's a day for a celebration

by enamuko



Series: Casphardt Week [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: Linhardt isn't one for parties. But he can hardly turn down one that's meant to honour him and Caspar, especially when everyone is so excited to hear that they're going to get married.Of course, that also means he has to start making plans about that whole 'getting married' thing.
Relationships: Background Hubert/Ferdinand - Relationship, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dorothea Arnault & Linhardt von Hevring, Linhardt von Hevring & Edelgard von Hresvelg
Series: Casphardt Week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535510
Comments: 24
Kudos: 154





	it's a day for a celebration

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be written for Casphardt Week but then work exploded and I had a billion other things to write at the same time, so! At least I've finally managed to cough this 10k word vomit out lmao.  
> Originally written for the prompt 'celebration'!

_“What?!”_

The cry went up from several different voices at once, when Caspar and Linhardt sat down to breakfast with the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force (minus the professor, Edelgard, and Hubert, of course) and Dorothea immediately noticed the engagement ring sitting heavily on Linhardt’s finger.

Linhardt didn’t pay much attention to the immediate bombardment of questions, preferring to let Caspar deal with all of that while he sat and dozed against his shoulder and let Dorothea and Bernadetta and Ferdinand fuss over the ring while it was still on his finger.

“When is the wedding?”

That question managed to pierce his contentment bubble and actually draw him into the conversation. He almost wanted to curse Dorothea for it.

“Uh… We hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

Caspar looked to Linhardt, as though _he_ would have any more answers, and then everyone else was suddenly looking at him as well.

“There’s a war going on,” he said, as that was the first thing that sprung to mind. “And wedding planning sounds exhausting. Surely thinking about that can wait.”

He had only asked Caspar to marry him _last night_ , after all.

“Oh, come on! You really haven’t thought about it at all?”

Dorothea again. He loved her, but he was _this_ close to starting a _scene_ at breakfast if she didn’t stop. Particularly when he hadn’t slept nearly enough, by his own measure, and hadn’t even had anything to eat yet…

“We only got engaged _last night_ ,” he said, frowning at her. “So not especially, no.”

“You should not pester them, Dorothea. I am certain Caspar and Linhardt will inform us as soon as any concrete plans have been made.”

“Thank you, Ferdinand,” Linhardt said with a sigh, as Dorothea turned to glare at him for what she called ‘butting in’.

“Oh, but this is ” Petra said, leaning into the conversation from her seat next to Dorothea. “In Brigid, a promise of marriage is always something to be greatly celebrating.”

“ _Thank you_ , Petra!” Dorothea said triumphantly, as if that had somehow had anything to do with what she had been saying. “We should have a party! An engagement party!”

“A p-party?” Bernadetta, who had been keeping out of the conversation other than to admire and coo over the engagement ring. Her eyes were the size of her plate.

“Just with the Black Eagle Strike Force,” Dorothea assured her. “We could all use a chance to let our hair down and relax for an evening, right?”

“Well… That does sound nice…”

“It _is_ certainly the most celebration-worthy news we have had in quite some time.”

Dorothea looked to him and Caspar to see how the idea had gone over. Linhardt was unsurprised to see that Caspar perked up at the idea.

“Hey, any excuse for a party, right?” He looked to Linhardt, who sighed.

“So long as I don’t have to do any work,” he said, waving his hand idly.

At the closest thing they were likely to get to agreement, the four of his teammates and his now-fiancé, who seemed much more excited than his non-committal answer had let on, devolved into a rapid discussion that sounded less like planning and more like wild fantasizing.

Oh well. They would figure it out, he was sure. And while they were distracted, while he would usually take full advantage of Caspar’s tendency to spoil him to get him to get breakfast for him, he decided that doing so himself would probably be more expeditious than waiting for a break in the conversation.

He rose from his seat, pressing a kiss to Caspar’s temple as he got up, prompting a casual hand squeeze without Caspar bothering to turn away or stop in the middle of his conversation.

Even though the two of them being affectionate was nothing new and they had all seen it dozens of times (Caspar and Linhardt had never exactly been ashamed about showing affection in public, platonic or otherwise), he heard Bernadetta make some sort of adorable noise about it, and decided to escape while he still had the chance.

Since Linhardt had, as per usual, kept Caspar in bed later than he probably should have, the line was blessedly short. He got in line, and when a looming shadow slipped into line behind him and leaned in very close to his ear to say,

“I hear congratulations are in order,”

He was quite proud to say he didn’t so much as flinch.

“You’ll have plenty of time to congratulate me soon, from what I hear,” Linhardt said, cocking his head to the side to look at Hubert over his shoulder without turning towards him. “Apparently, there’s going to be a _party_.”

“Hm. So I’ve heard,” was all Hubert said, leaning away from him again, which surprised Linhardt.

“Really? I would have thought you’d be the one putting an end to all of that. Since we’re in the middle of a war and all that.”

“Far be it from me to ruin their fun,” Hubert said with one of his signature low, creepy chuckles. “In fact, it seems like a perfectly harmless way to raise morale. And I’m almost looking forward to all of the wheedling that’s about to come my way as your party planning committee tries to commandeer army resources for it. So if you’re looking for someone to provide you an easy out to attending your own engagement party, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“Ugh. So you saw right through me. I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose.” Linhardt sighed, but couldn’t stop a smile creeping onto his face that he was sure Hubert would know was there even though he was looking completely away from him. “I _also_ suppose there are worse things I could have to endure…”

He thought about the engagement parties he’d been forced to attend once or twice for the sons and daughters of his father’s friends, or the occasional distant cousin, until finally he’d been enough of an embarrassment to his family that they stopped bringing him along. They had always been so stuffy and formal, and mostly seemed like an excuse for the parents of the new “happy” couple to show off their mutual gains from the whole ordeal rather than any actual celebration of love and happiness…

At least a party with the rest of his former classmates and, dare he say it, good friends sounded like it would be slightly less exhausting… Or maybe _more_ exhausting, he wasn’t quite sure…

He and Hubert reached the front of the line and were each handed a plate just as Dorothea swanned up from their table and promptly latched herself onto Hubert’s arm.

“Hubie,” she said in her best sugar sweet voice. “Just the man I wanted to see. Ferdie and I had something we wanted to ask you. If I could steal you for just a few minutes…”

Hubert turned to Linhardt and raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘See?’ as he sighed and said, in an overly dramatic put upon tone, “Oh, I suppose I can spare a moment.”

Linhardt chose to take his food back to his room while he still had a chance to escape.

“Hey, Linnie.”

Linhardt didn’t even look away from his book, he simply leaned back into Caspar as his broad hands came down onto his shoulders to massage his upper arms, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his head.

“My, don’t you look handsome…”

Linhardt set his book aside to turn and look at him properly. It was a rare sight to see Caspar dressed up, and he could already tell he felt uncomfortable in the tight-fitting woolen clothes.

Linhardt said silent thanks to Ferdinand for the way Caspar’s shirt stretched over his chest to the point that it almost looked like he was going to pop a button or two. It was too well made to strain the way, say, Raphael’s shirts had always done during their academy days, but it was easy enough to picture Caspar flexing just so…

“Uh, Lin? You okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, more than,” Linhardt answered, realizing suddenly that he’d just spent the last several seconds absent-mindedly caressing Caspar’s chest while he pictured that, but not able to bring himself to feel ashamed of that.

“Good, cuz it’s time for us to head downstairs.”

Linhardt sighed, but it was much less of a pleasant sigh than the one before, and tapered off into a slight grumble.

“Do we have to?” Linhardt asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Hey, do you really want to just sit around after having Dorothea and Bernie poking at you for so long?”

Caspar’s hand went to his hair as he said that, calloused fingers running through Linhardt’s silky locks.

“Don’t remind me…”

Although it hadn’t required a lot of effort on his part, having Dorothea and Bernadetta digging through his wardrobe to find a suitable outfit and then fussing over his hair more than _he_ ever had in his entire life had been… _Tiring_. Not quite exhausting, but he was glad they had scampered out of his room to go check on the rest of the party preparations and left him to relax a bit before the party proper began.

“C’mon,” Caspar said, reaching down to loosely grip Linhardt’s wrists, massaging his pulse points with the rough pads of his fingers; Linhardt immediately melted into his chair, which was exactly the opposite of what Caspar had been intending, but that was his own fault so he didn’t feel bad about it. “Everybody’s waiting for us.”

“Surely they can wait a little while longer…”

“It’s our party! We’re the guests of honour! They can’t exactly start without us.”

Linhardt let out a little whine and tilted his head back to look up at Caspar with his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, only to find that Caspar was pouting right back at him. Linhardt sighed again and looked down at their entangled hands.

Caspar looked quite handsome in the outfit Ferdinand had dressed him in, but Linhardt’s favourite part of the ensemble was the ring on Caspar’s finger.

It had taken a few days for Dorothea and Ferdinand to convince Hubert to give up his iron grip on the army’s stores (and even then, Linhardt was certain that Ferdinand had needed to do quite a bit more than _ask politely_ to convince him, and that Dorothea had gone behind his back to make the request with the emperor herself), and in the meantime Linhardt had decided he didn’t care for being the only one with an engagement ring, even if he thought the one Caspar had picked out for him was lovely. He had taken him to the marketplace and found one that matched the same sort of aesthetic Caspar had been going for, but in a slightly more masculine style…

Linhardt didn’t know much about engagement rings or jewelry in general, but Caspar seemed to like it, and that was all that mattered. And Linhardt couldn’t help but stare at it every time they had a moment to themselves, thinking about the fact that it meant he and Caspar were going to get _married_ …

And now he had to think about the fact that there was a room full of people wanting to celebrate the same thing waiting for them, their closest friends, people who Linhardt would trust with his life and who trusted him with theirs every single day.

Dammit, he really _couldn’t_ get out of going to this, could he…

He let out one last put-upon sigh (or, well, he couldn’t lie like that even to himself, but the last one _for now_ ) and rose to his feet, his hand sliding into Caspar’s like it belonged there.

(Which, of course, it very much did.)

“I suppose you’re right; it’s rude to keep them waiting any longer…” He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “...Although perhaps they could wait just five more minutes?”

“Lin…”

“Kidding, I’m kidding…”

Linhardt didn’t really like parties. They tended to be either obnoxiously loud or overly stuffy, and either way involved a lot of movement-based activities like dancing or a lot of having to make polite conversation or drinking alcohol, or—

Well, he could probably continue the list of things he _didn’t_ like about parties almost indefinitely.

But there were some things he did like about parties.

Or this party in particular, at least.

For one, everyone in attendance was a close personal friend, which meant no one expected a lot of _active participation_ from him. It also meant there was no one there he didn’t know _intimately_ (he was the second-closest thing they had to a doctor, after all, aside from Manuela), and so there was no small talk involved, other than the fact that his friends all insisted on congratulating him at every available opportunity. It was almost like they were more excited than he was—

He caught Caspar’s eye from across the room, where Caspar was telling Bernadetta all about their plans to travel all of Fodlan and beyond after the war while Linhardt sat quite comfortably at the table picking at a hastily prepared celebratory meal. Caspar smiled brightly and waved at him with the same hand his ring was so proudly displayed on.

Alright, colour him corrected; no one could be more excited than he was, except perhaps Caspar, and even then he would happily compete with him for the title of ‘Most Excited’.

But everyone else was certainly a lot _louder_ about it.

Another thing he liked about this particular party was, as both Dorothea and Hubert had said, getting to see everyone relaxing and having fun. Linhardt knew he struggled with the war and their actions more than most, but that didn't mean everyone else wasn't struggling too. He missed the days of Dorothea's casual cheerfulness instead of her forced smile and wilted gaze, Ferdinand's boundless confidence and self-assurance rather than poorly masked doubt, and Edelgard…

He looked around the room and saw neither her, nor Hubert, who he _had_ overheard saying to Ferdinand earlier in the day that he had important business to attend to and would arrive a little late. And his business was Edelgard's, so he assumed that explained her absence as well. But it also meant there was no one around to somehow read his mind and hear him say to himself that he preferred the Edelgard who scolded him for falling asleep in lectures and told off Claude for teasing her, to the stoic emperor who had started a war against an entire continent.

“Having fun, Linnie?”

Dorothea was flushed when she slid into the seat next to him and her hair was mussed up from its usual perfect coiffure. He assumed the glass of wine she was holding was to blame; someone had apparently found a stash that had been well hidden enough that no one had managed to find it in the five years that they had been turning the monastery upside down.

“It’s a nice party,” Linhardt said to avoid answering the question truthfully, because it was nice of Dorothea to arrange it for them, even if he would rather be curled up in bed with a good book and Caspar curled up against his back… “You really went to a lot of trouble.”

“Well, you two deserve it. Everyone is really happy for you two. Especially since it wasn’t too long ago that you were trying to pretend you _weren’t_ completely head over heels for each other.” Dorothea let out a dramatic sigh. “Glad those days are over.”

“Really? You’re going to drag me and Caspar for that when you have the most hopeless case of romantic pining in the history of Fodlan right in front of you? Frankly, Dorothea, I’m _insulted_.”

As if on cue, Ferdinand’s booming voice echoed through the room as he congratulated Caspar for what must have been the fourth or fifth time that night, and the party hadn’t even been going on for an hour. (And considering his voice was starting to reach Caspar levels of volume, Linhardt was willing to put _that_ down to the wine as well, particularly considering the flush to his cheeks that complimented his hair and really brought out his freckles.

He was still trying to figure out where all of the wine had _come_ from, and how his party planners had gotten into it so quickly…)

“Oh, don’t worry,” Dorothea said in her best lilting ‘scheming’ voice. “I have a _plan_ for Hubie and Ferdie. But tonight? Is all about you and Caspar. And I think after all the work I’ve done I’ve earned the right to tease you just a _little_.”

“Well, if it’s just a _little_ ,” Linhard said in his best deadpan tone.

Some things really never changed.

Dorothea offered him a glass of wine that she pulled seemingly from nowhere as a sort of peace offering— or maybe he’d just been too distracted by the sound of Caspar’s booming laughter and the sight of him scooping Petra up in a bear hug and lifting her right off her feet to notice exactly where she’d gotten it from.

“I know everyone’s probably said this to you so much it’s lost all meaning, but I really am happy for the two of you,” she said abruptly as soon as he took his first sip— perhaps so he couldn’t interrupt her. (Not that he would. Unless she was planning on saying something stupid. Unlikely for Dorothea, but not impossible— he still remembered her telling him about confronting Hubert over his obvious feelings for Edelgard in what was possibly the worst case of projection he had ever heard of.) “It’s nice to see something positive come out of all this fighting, for once…”

Linhardt could have made several comments; he could have said that it was probably unwise to talk so negatively about the war, but he was certain Dorothea of all people was _quite_ safe from accusations of sedition, even from someone as paranoid as Hubert.

He also could have said that the war didn’t really have anything to do with it; after all, he and Caspar had been dancing around their feelings for each other since before either of them really had any _concept_ of romance. War or no war, he was sure they would have found themselves in precisely the same position they were in now.

Of course, it might have been a bit more difficult in some ways… Thinking back to his father’s letter, though he had certainly never been shy about turning down his father’s ridiculous requests and demands, it had certainly been much easier to do so when he didn’t have to be face to face with him, and when he had been a part of the emperor’s personal retinue for the last five years.

Edelgard had already proved quite capable of disposing of the old guard in her pursuit of her new world order, after all, and though his own father didn’t have the level of influence in the insurrection that Duke Aegir or Marquis Vestra had, she had made quite an example of the two of them… Enough to give his father serious pause at poking a sleeping bear like that, he supposed…

Although he hadn’t actually remembered to write back to tell him precisely where he could shove his latest betrothal ‘suggestion’. He would have to remember to do that tomorrow, before they were back on the march. Knowing his father, a complete lack of an answer would be taken as acquiescence, and wouldn’t that be awkward…

Impractical as it was, though, he almost wanted to wait until he was face to face with him, just so he could see the look on his face when he told him he was marrying _Caspar_.

Linhardt didn’t say any of those things, of course. He instead lapsed into a few minutes of comfortable silence with his own thoughts. Considering all of the trouble she had gone to just to plan a night where they could all relax and celebrate something joyful and completely unrelated to the war, and it was all for him and Caspar, it seemed rude to say anything like that.

He could tell Dorothea was gearing up to say something more, probably something heartfelt and emotional that would make one or both of them teary eyed— but she was distracted by a crash and the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass.

“Please tell me that wasn’t my idiot,” Linhardt said, absolutely refusing to look behind him at the source of the sound in case he did, in fact, see his idiot lying on the floor surrounded by broken glass and what sounded like the remains of a table.

“Hm, no, I do believe that was my co-host, helped along by a biiiiit too much wine,” Dorothea said, sounding far too casual about that.

“We haven’t even been here an hour.”

“Ferdie and I _miiiiiiight_ have been, ahem, _sampling_ the wine before the party started.”

Reassured, Linhardt turned to look, and was greeted by the sight of Caspar helping Ferdinand up out of a pile of splinters that did indeed used to be a table, though thankfully not a particularly useful or sturdy one…

“Hm, yes, you had better attend to that,” he said, taking a sip of his own wine. “I’ll miss your company, but we don’t want this whole thing falling apart so soon, do we?”

“Oh, if you think I’m letting you get away that easily—” The sound of breaking glass cut her off, along with a booming laughter from all of his classmates, though Linhardt heard Caspar’s laugh above everyone else’s, and felt a burst of warmth.

Linhardt said nothing and looked at her over the top of his wine glass.

“Oh, fine— but I’ll be back!” Dorothea got up to attend to whatever was going on, nearly tripping over the skirt of her own dress and sloshing her wine dangerously.

Linhardt wasn’t sure she was really in any shape to be lecturing anyone else about drunken shenanigans, but it was nice to see her truly _smiling_ for the first time in as long as he could remember… Even if it was a bit of a goofy one.

It was inevitable, he supposed, that he would end up roped into dancing. It was a party, after all; _his_ party, ostensibly. His and Caspar’s.

Things had calmed down a bit after Ferdinand had fallen through a table; the more tipsy of his comrades had slowed their liquid celebration, eaten a bit, and even though he could still see Dorothea swaying on her feet every so often, it was hard to tell if that was from the wine or just from the scratchy music drifting from the record player that someone had managed to find and get in working order, and which Manuela had generously provided the records for.

Everyone had insisted that he and Caspar dance together, which he supposed made sense, since it was meant to be a celebration of the two of them; thankfully it was more of an upbeat song which, while not suited to his sleepy demeanor, didn’t mean having to endure tugging Caspar through something approximating a waltz while his feet were stepped on a few dozen times.

(He still winced thinking about the Garreg Mach Ball, which Caspar had dragged him to and insisted on dancing with him at, despite the fact that Caspar had two left feet and Linhardt fared only moderately better, knowing the steps in theory but having never taken the time to practice even when his father nagged him to do so night and day before some event or another he was expected to attend.

This sort of half-dancing aided by wine and an infectiously happy environment was a lot better. And Caspar hadn’t stepped on his feet even once. Probably because he spent so much time swinging Linhardt around, picking him up on the like, that his feet weren’t even _on the ground_ often enough for him to step on them…)

After that, Bernadetta had worked up the courage to ask Caspar for a dance, and Ferdinand had swept in to have a turn with Linhardt, looking surprisingly well put together for someone who had fallen through a table not too long ago. (When Linhardt told him that, he blushed and didn’t even try to give one of his usual excuses or speeches about nobility, just pulled him into a dance that much more closely resembled the waltzes and formal dances Linhardt had been subjected to in his youth, albeit with even less grace than Linhardt normally had since it didn’t really suit the style of music and they were both too many glasses of wine in to even _pretend_ to be graceful.)

“I must say, I was surprised to hear of your engagement,” Ferdinand said, and when Linhardt raised an eyebrow at him, Ferdinand cleared his throat and said, “I… Expected that the two of you would wait until the end of the war.”

“Extenuating circumstances motivated me,” Linhardt said, refusing to elaborate any further. Ferdinand really didn’t need to hear the messy details of how he and Caspar had stumbled their way through Linhardt’s awkward attempt at a proposal. “Besides, as you said, we’re at war. Who knows what might happen?”

Of course, Linhardt didn’t care to think about what _might_ happen to himself or Caspar on the field of battle, even though it was always hanging somewhere in the back of his mind to be fervently ignored.

“Just waiting and hoping didn’t seem wise. Taking action seemed far more prudent. Although that might just be Caspar rubbing off on me.”

Ferdinand was staring blankly at him through his entire explanation, and when he finished and raised an eyebrow at him, Ferdinand turned away and flushed a bright red that he certainly couldn’t blame on the wine…

Linhardt mostly left the matchmaking to Dorothea and tried to keep his nose in his own business— but it was hard not to tease Ferdinand when he made such an obvious opening.

“Or, if you need that extra bit of motivation, I’ll be sure to throw the bouquet your way at my wedding. Then you won’t have a choice.”

Ferdinand quickly excused himself after that, giving Linhardt the perfect chance to slip away from the makeshift dance floor and find somewhere to… _Relax_ for a while.

By the time the professor, Edelgard, and Hubert showed up, the party had begun to wind down a bit. The earlier misadventures with wine had caused everyone to exercise a bit more moderation, although looking at his former classmates, Linhardt could see a lot of red faces that had nothing to do with embarrassment or illness…

(Not that he could judge, what with the glass of wine in his own hand that had been generously refilled… More than once. But as long as he wasn’t falling through any tables, he was faring better than at least one of his party guests, and he was content enough with that.)

He’d found a comfortable observation point from which to watch Hubert, after he had stopped by to give his cursory congratulations, flatly commenting on Ferdinand’s indulgence shortly before Dorothea and Bernadetta and the poor abused record player conspired to get them to dance. As Caspar kept flitting around talking to people and helping himself to seconds and thirds of the food, including a cake that had appeared at some point that Caspar had made a point of bringing him a piece of, and which he was still picking at because they had forced so much food onto _him_ , saying that it was a party and it would be a shame to let any of it go to waste.

He was so full that he had almost dozed off sitting up when someone sitting down next to him just barely managed to rouse him from his half-slumber.

“Congratulations, Linhardt.”

Edelgard sounded more stiff and formal than the rest of their party, but Linhardt was feeling too sleepy and content to poke fun at her for it. Instead he yawned his way through a simple ‘thank you’ and waved his hand in her general direction.

“I’m surprised you’ve stayed awake this entire time,” she said with a chuckle, sounding more relaxed as she looked around and saw that everyone was too busy with the half-drunken Ferdinand and Hubert shenanigans to pay her any mind.

“And I’m surprised the three of you made it,” Linhardt retorted as he stabbed his fork into his cake, figuring picking a bit more at it would at least give him something to do. “No _top secret business_ to attend to tonight?”

Okay, so perhaps he wasn’t too tired to avoid poking fun at _all_. And he really quite enjoyed the look on Edelgard’s face in the moments where she forgot to hold her Emperor Face, and her eyes widened just ever so slightly before she immediately reined it in and started to launch into whatever excuse or explanation she and Hubert had carefully prepared.

He stopped her with a raised hand and a, “Don’t worry, I was joking,” even though that was only half true.

“Byleth didn’t want to miss a party to celebrate such an important occasion,” she said instead, which at least sounded like a plausible truth. “And Hubert and I were inclined to agree, of course.”

“I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss about it,” Linhardt said, pausing in poking at what used to be a slice of cake and was now mostly abused crumbs on a plate in order to casually twist the ring on his finger.

“I think everyone is just happy for a reason to celebrate,” Edelgard offered. “Particularly, a reason to celebrate that _doesn’t_ have to do with battle. Victory can be just as draining as defeat, after all…”

“How poetic.”

“I would have thought you would be one of those people, Linhardt,” Edelgard said with genuine thoughtfulness rather than teasing, and Linhardt wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not. “But then, you never really were the party type, were you?”

“As I always say, you know me far too well,” he replied with a chuckle. “I had a much different idea for how to ‘celebrate’ our engagement, I assure you.”

“What are you— oh.”

Linhardt idly wondered if there was some sort of punishment for people who flustered the Adrestian Emperor with an altogether mild sexual innuendo. Oh well. Hubert was too preoccupied to take notice, anyway.

“ _Moving on_ ,” Edelgard said as she cleared her throat into her closed fist, as though that would hide the fact that she was blushing. “I truly am happy for the two of you. This is quite a massive step the two of you are taking together.”

“Really? It doesn’t feel like it.” Linhardt yawned. When Edelgard looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he merely shrugged. “I’ve always planned to spend the rest of my days with Caspar. Marriage really just seems like a formality at this point.”

“Then there is the matter of your father, of course.”

Linhardt shouldn’t have been surprised. Edelgard and Hubert seemed to know everything. She no doubt had an entire legion of spies keeping tabs on the nobles of Adrestia, particularly those who had been involved in the coup against her father (and he always shuddered to remember that his own father had played a part in that, alongside Caspar’s, and it reminded him of why he had no desire to inherit his father’s position). And though he liked to think Edelgard trusted all of them, he had to admit how unlikely it was that the correspondence being delivered to Garreg Mach Monastery— the _heart_ of the Adrestian Army, and the current residence of its emperor— was not heavily monitored.

But he was still surprised, and he wanted to blame the wine. At least it seemed to amuse Edelgard. Maybe he had a funny expression on his face to match his befuddlement.

“Have you informed him yet?”

“No. And I don’t intend to do so, at least not until all of this nonsense is over with,” he said with a sigh. “I really have more important things to concern myself with. Like making sure my future husband doesn’t die horrifically on the battlefield.”

It really wasn’t in Linhardt’s nature to worry about those sorts of things, either, but he had to admit that he did… At least somewhat. Not so much about his father’s reaction as his ability to be a nuisance. Linhardt had every intention of renouncing his noble title and leaving his father to deal with that entire mess, but Count Hevring was not a man who had a great deal of patience for what he called Linhardt’s ‘antics’, and had spent most of Linhardt’s life working counter to them in some particularly shrewd ways…

Of course, Edelgard didn’t ask idle questions, no matter what the completely innocent expression she was giving him might suggest.

He pushed his half-demolished cake in her direction. One of her eyebrows went up.

“A bribe,” he said, before she could even ask. “For you to tell me whatever is going through your mind that has you looking at me like that.”

“Ah.”

Edelgard glanced left and right, as if it would be shameful for an emperor to be caught eating cake at a private party with her closest friends. Then, deciding she was safe from reproach, she took an almost dainty bite.

Linhardt could think of several decidedly inappropriate jokes to make about the face she made. Considering Hubert kept glancing over in their direction whenever he wasn’t being flabbergasted by Dorothea’s repeated attempts to keep him and Ferdinand dancing, he decided against it.

“I was merely thinking,” Edelgard said, already taking her second bite, drawing out what she was telling him far longer than was necessary. “All of this business about betrothal and maintaining the family line that so many nobles are obsessed with… it’s really just another way that Crests control our lives from the moment we’re born.”

“Even families who bear no Crest lineage seem rather obsessed with maintaining an unbroken family line,” Linhardt pointed out, because he had lost (or rather, given up) the thing with which he was fiddling and so it was harder to control his desire to be contrary. “But yes, my father does seem rather insistent that I pass my Crest on to a ‘proper’ heir. And while I wouldn’t object to studying the genetic properties of Crests, I have no desire to be shunted into a loveless marriage with some daughter of one of my father’s friends.”

Edelgard nodded along with his short rant, which had more of a bitter edge than he’d intended it to.

Perhaps he felt more strongly about this whole thing than he’d thought. How curious.

“I imagine there are many other people just as stuck in their ways as your father,” Edelgard said. “People who would object to you and Caspar.”

“I really don’t care who objects,” Linhardt said easily. “People’s opinions of me have certainly never affected me before. I don’t intend to allow them to do so _now_.”

“That does sound very much like you,” Edelgard said with a chuckle. “But I was thinking… Well, certainly people will always complain, but what if there was a way of making sure all of those complaints were even more impotent than they already are?”

When Edelgard had an idea, she got a certain glimmer in her eyes that made Linhardt feel nervous when it was paired with her usual cold, hardened determination, but at the moment it was paired with an almost mischievous grin.

...Which was actually somehow even more worrying.

“I would say that sounds almost too good to be true,” Linhardt replied carefully.

“Linhardt.”

And suddenly she was back to serious, turning in her seat to face him with her hands folded in her lap. Linhardt suddenly felt like he was being interrogated.

“You know my goal is to unify Fodlan to make life _better_ for the people who have been torn down and harmed by the oppressive system of nobility we live under.”

It sounded more like a pitch to be made to a roundtable of councillors and advisors than anything to do with what they were talking about now, but Linhardt simply nodded anyway. He was almost, against his better judgement, becoming _intrigued_.

“Obviously dismantling the power the church has over the nobility is a large part of that,” Edelgard continued unprompted. “But it really wouldn’t be worth it if I wasn’t truly able to _help people_ with the changes I’m making. And I think in the course of this war, I’ve lost sight of that. So I think it would be good for me to start here, with the people who have stuck by me in this dangerous mission…”

“Edelgard, you’re rambling,” he said, as gently as possible. Not for once because he was exhausted by the conversation and wanted to move on, but because he was actually _impatient_ to hear what she had to say.

Edelgard didn’t have idle ideas; she had grand schemes.

He was almost flattered to be included in one for once.

“Ah, yes, well.” Edelgard blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Pardon me. I suppose I got a little excited. But what I wanted to say was… Well, I suppose what I wanted to _ask you_ was…”

“Edelgard, whatever you’re going to ask me, you’re far more nervous right now than I was when I _proposed_. You can just come out and say it.”

“I’m not nervous! I’m simply—” She sighed and closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the serious expression was back. “Linhardt. Would you do me the honour of allowing me to officiate your and Caspar’s wedding?”

Linhardt blinked.

Well. He certainly hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“I know you’ll have to discuss the matter with Caspar,” she continued, as though she couldn’t see the way he was staring at her with saucer-wide eyes, but judging by the little grin that was trying to work its way back onto her face? She was _more_ than aware. “And I completely understand if you want to wait until the end of the war. But I know you’ve never been especially religious, and I would be greatly honoured if you would allow me to perform the ceremony in lieu of something more traditional. And how many people can argue with a marriage performed by the emperor herself?”

“And meanwhile, you get to showcase your generosity, inclusivity, _and_ throw up a proverbial middle finger to the nobility and their stuffy traditions,” Linhardt said.

It was clever. _Very_ clever. He should have expected nothing less from Edelgard.

“So you can see how it benefits us both,” Edelgard said, smiling at him quite genuinely. “But I really am happy for the two of you, and want what’s best for you. If that’s something other than what I’m offering, then by all means.”

“I can’t imagine Caspar will care,” Linhardt said with a hum in his voice as he looked away to scan the room, his eyes settling on the man in question. He had somehow tempted Bernadetta into dancing with him in a way that made his and Caspar’s _earlier_ dance look like a proper waltz. “But if it were up to me… I would take you up on your offer. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“I want you to marry us as quickly as possible.”

Edelgard raised _both_ eyebrows at him.

“You want to make some sort of big statement, correct?” Linhardt planted his elbow on the table and leaned into his own hand, hiding a yawn behind the other. “And everyone’s been making a rather large fuss about how nice it is to have something _good_ happening in the middle of all this violence.”

“And?”

“...and then I can tell my father to stop attempting to marry me off to women I’ve never met before, and if he has any problem with that, then he’s more than welcome to take it up with the emperor.”

“Then it seems like we’re both in agreement.”

“Should we shake on it? A scheme well schemed?”

“Hm… There’s something unsettling about hearing you call your marriage a ‘scheme’,” Edelgard teased, and Linhardt rolled his eyes at her. “But nonetheless, you should discuss the matter with your _fiance_. _And_ I think you should enjoy yourself. This is a party in your honour, after all.”

“I think it’s really more for everyone else’s sake rather than mine,” Linhardt said. “Although I’ve been enjoying the _entertainment_.”

He’d hardly finished his sentence before there was a slight commotion, a round of exuberant clapping accompanied by some hollering. He tore his attention away from Edelgard just in time to see what must have been the end of a rather elaborate dance routine, which had ended with Ferdinand dipping Hubert so deeply that the back of his head was practically touching the floor, leaving Hubert blushing and stammering while Ferdinand was _just_ drunk enough to not seem to notice, being too absorbed in the praise he was receiving from everyone else for his dancing skills.

“So,” he said. “When do you think you’ll be offering to officiate _their_ wedding?”

Edelgard sighed and shook her head.

“Soon, I hope. Though if the two of them are as obnoxious as they are now when they’re dancing around the fact that they like each other, I can only _imagine_ what they’ll be like when they actually manage to get it out.”

Linhardt watched Hubert practically run out of the room, turning the same colour as Edelgard’s dress, leaving a perplexed but content Ferdinand who was flushed for an entirely different reason. At least this time he didn’t seem to have the coordination issues he was having earlier that caused him to fall through a table…

“Edelgard!” he said brightly. “I seem to have lost my dance partner. Would you care to join me in his place?”

“Ah— Ferdinand. You know, I would love to, but Linhardt and I were just in the middle of a conversation…”

“Actually, we were just finishing up a conversation,” Linhardt said, sliding his plate of cake back over to himself and taking a bite.

He waved to Edelgard as Ferdinand dragged her off, glaring back at him over her shoulder.

He watched Ferdinand rather enthusiastically drag her around the dance floor for a bit, his eyes starting to droop from the mixture of food and wine and social interaction, and just when he was beginning to wonder if he should get up and find Caspar to take him to bed (since he had disappeared from their loose grouping of friends and out of Linhardt’s immediate field of vision some time during his conversation with Edelgard), the man in question slid right into the seat Edelgard had been in a minute ago.

“Hey, Linnie.”

Caspar put an arm around his shoulders and tugged him over to kiss his temple, and Linhardt went easily, leaning almost his whole weight into Caspar and settling his head right on his broad shoulder. Caspar gave him a squeeze and turned his head to press his face into the top of Linhardt’s head, almost burrowing in his hair, and pressing another kiss _there_ for good measure.

“Partied out?” Caspar asked, and Linhardt replied with his best incoherent tired grumble that made Caspar laugh.

“It’s certainly not the worst party I’ve ever been to,” Linhardt said, punctuating his sentence with a yawn. “But I’m ready to be in bed.”

“Everyone’s pretty distracted,” Caspar said. “We could probably head back now, if you want.”

“Mm.” Linhardt nuzzled closer into the crook of Caspar’s neck. “In a moment. I’m quite comfortable here.”

“You can fall asleep if you want. I’ll carry you to bed.”

“Oh? Without complaining about me falling asleep wherever I want? How generous of you.”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting married now. I’m just gonna have to get used to it.”

“If you’re not used to it after 15 years, Caspar, I’m afraid you have an entirely different problem.”

Sliding into their usual banter felt like sliding into a warm bath after a long day. Especially when Caspar just laughed, and he could feel it as much as he could hear it, with the way Caspar still had his face pressed into his hair.

“What were you and Edelgard talking about?” he asked, and Linhardt simply rolled with the abrupt subject change (just like Caspar should be more than used to his sleeping habits, he was equally used to Caspar’s lackluster attention span).

“She asked if she could officiate our wedding,” he replied, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

“Really? Huh. Guess that crosses one thing off the list.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

Linhardt wasn’t particularly surprised; though they had very different personalities, and though Caspar could get himself quite worked up about a lot of things, they were both very carefree people… Albeit for different reasons.

(For Caspar, it was the fact that he didn’t allow himself to worry about much of anything; he was a man of action more than anything. For Linhardt, it was the fact that worrying too much about things was just… _Tiring_.)

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Caspar asked, looking genuinely perplexed by the question. Linhardt loved how he wore his heart on his sleeve… Or rather, on his face.

He never had to wonder how Caspar was feeling; he just had to look at him.

“I suppose I was thinking you might want something a touch more… Traditional.”

“What?”

“I know, I know.” Linhardt sighed. “Just me overthinking things, I suppose. Neither of us have really ever been the ‘traditional’ sort, have we?”

“Well, you asked me to marry you because you were annoyed about your dad bugging you to get married, so you tell me.”

“And _you_ were the one who had a ring all ready to go. And I assume a plan to propose in a more… _Conventional_ manner.” Although it wouldn’t surprise him if Caspar had simply bought the ring without considering how he was going to move forward with it.

“Yeah, I had this whole… _Thing_ planned out, but like I said, I probably would have just screwed it up anyway.” Caspar laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “So it was probably better that you just sprung that on me the way you did.”

“I’m sure you would have done fine,” Linhardt said, giving Caspar’s chest a pat. “Or else I would have been very amused watching you flounder around and would have said yes anyway.”

Caspar laughed again. It was a warm, comforting sound that Linhardt felt reverberate through his entire body from where his cheek was pressed against Caspar’s shoulder. He honestly would have been fine taking Caspar’s offer and falling asleep right there, letting his _fiance_ carry him to bed, except…

“Oh,” he said, lifting his head just slightly to be able to look Caspar in the eye. “I also told her I wanted to get married as quickly as possible.”

“Oh.”

Caspar blinked, and Linhardt raised an eyebrow. Caspar made a considering noise, almost a hum in the back of his throat, then shrugged, bumping Linhardt’s head in a way that turned his considering look into a small glare.

“Sounds good to me,” he said, rubbing Linhardt’s arm, though he couldn’t tell if it was an apology since he wasn’t even sure he’d noticed jostling him. “Pretty much everyone I wanted to invite to our wedding is here already, so it would be pretty convenient.”

“You don’t want any of your family to be there?”

Linhardt knew it was unlikely Caspar would want to invite his father, and his brother was… _Dubious_ at best, but as far as he was aware, his relationship with his mother was at least decent.

Of course, Linhardt’s own relationship with his mother was decent as well, but considering they were in the middle of a war and he was dodging both death and his father’s attempts to plan out possibly the least compelling existence for him he could imagine, he was far more eager to move ahead as quickly as possible.

And, he was realizing now, he was simply… _Excited_ by the prospect on its own. He brought his hand up to rest on Caspar’s chest, and admired the way his engagement ring caught the low light of the dining hall as he rubbed gentle circles on Caspar’s chest through his shirt.

“Nah,” Caspar said. “I doubt any of them would show up, anyway. And Randolph and Fleche will be there anyway, which kind of counts, right?”

“I suppose,” Linhardt said, although he wasn’t sure what it was really meant to ‘count’ towards. “But you don’t need to rush on my account. It was really just a whim on my part.”

“Lin, you know I’d marry you any time, anywhere.” Caspar leaned in to kiss his head again. Linhardt was starting to suspect that the flashes of warmth he felt every time Caspar did something like that weren’t going to go away any time soon; they hadn’t since they had gotten together, and really, he was quite alright with that. “Like you said, we’re really just making things official, right? I decided a long time ago that I was gonna stay with you forever. The rest of it is really just icing on the cake.”

Even though he had said something similar to Caspar not long ago, hearing it from the other side made him realize just how… _Embarrassing_ it sounded. Just coming out and saying something so intimate?

Linhardt wasn’t normally the type to get embarrassed, but he couldn’t resist the urge to at least hide his face a little further in Caspar’s shoulder. At the very least, it only looked like he was every bit as tired as he actually was.

“I love you, Caspar,” he said suddenly, too quickly overtaken by the urge to second guess it, and the way he could _feel_ Caspar sort of puff up like he was preening only made it even more worthwhile in his opinion.

“Love you too, Linhardt. Now let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“Mm… I won’t argue with that.”

And he most certainly did _not_ argue when, as soon as they had slipped out of their own party unnoticed (in large part thanks to everyone paying far more attention to the way that Edelgard was being pulled around the dance floor by Ferdinand), Caspar scooped him up into his arms to carry him to their room, leaving the laughter of their friends in the distance as he rested his head against Caspar’s broad chest.

Less than a week later, they were married in the main hall of Garreg Mach Monastery. It had been cleared up as best as could be managed, and though the nippy Guardian Moon chill snuck in where it could, Linhardt hardly noticed.

Caspar always radiated heat like a furnace, and from the moment they came to stand together at the front of the hall, in front of the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force and the other friends and soldiers who had gathered to celebrate with them, Caspar refused to let go of his hands, which kept him plenty warm.

Edelgard stood in her full emperor regalia, or as much of it as she could have outside of the Imperial palace, while she was heading up the army and leading them on the march. They had pushed aside as many of the tables as they could manage, and filled the hall with chairs. They hadn’t needed many, of course; there were perhaps two dozen people in attendance.

Dorothea dabbed away dainty tears from her eyes with her handkerchief, a watery smile on her face, sniffling her way through whatever Edelgard was saying; Linhardt had stopped paying attention. Manuela next to her was being much more obnoxious, her crying nowhere near the realm of ‘dainty’ as Hanneman attempted to console her while avoiding the snot she was blowing into her own handkerchief; Linhardt could practically hear the drunken rant she would go on later about still being single.

Ferdinand was getting misty eyed as well, but beyond the glistening of tears, he was beaming and glowing; Linhardt would go as far as to say that he was the third happiest person in the room, behind himself and Caspar.

Linhardt’s eyes were practically glued to Caspar, but he couldn’t help but look out the corner of his eye at their guests. Their friends. Their _family_ , far more than Linhardt would consider his father, all gathered for them, Edelgard reciting whatever secular speech she had prepared with such passion and genuine emotion that it didn’t even matter that Linhardt wasn’t really paying attention to what she was actually _saying_.

(Maybe he _should_ have been paying attention. It wasn’t every day that you got to be married off by the ruler of your country, after all. But he was far more interested in the way Caspar was trying and failing to hold back his own tears, trying to blink them back so he didn’t have to let go of Linhardt’s hand, but even through his tears was still grinning like a loon and judging by the way he couldn’t stop squeezing Linhardt’s hands and rocking on his heels, the only thing keeping him from jumping around like one as well was the way Linhardt was soothingly rubbing his thumbs across Caspar’s knuckles.

Even though he had eyes only for Caspar, he still couldn’t help but see, out of the corner of his eye— since they were front and center, with the rest of their former classmates— Ferdinand, with the hand that wasn’t dabbing his eyes, reaching over to grasp Hubert’s hand in his own, and Hubert, definitely paying far more attention to Edelgard than Linhardt was, folding their fingers together without even thinking about it.

He was starting to think that his joke about Edelgard officiating _their_ wedding was not far off the mark.)

At the moment, though, there was only _one_ wedding he wanted to be thinking about. He tuned back into what Edelgard was saying just as she reached the part where she prompted them for their vows.

Caspar looked like he was about ready to either burst into tears or burst out of his skin if he had to wait a moment longer, and being content enough to wait his turn, Linhardt squeezed his hands encouragingly.

“Linhardt,” Caspar began, then had to stop to swallow, starting to get choked up. “When I said I wanted to marry you when we were kids, I didn’t actually know what that meant. And by the time I knew what it meant, I figured it was never gonna happen, so standing here right now… Is pretty incredible. And the fact that I’m gonna get to spend every day of the rest of my life with you is even _more_ incredible. I know I’m not really good with words, but… if I can spend every single day just being with you and making you happy, then no matter where we go or what we do, it’s gonna be the best way to spend my life that I could ever imagine. So no matter what, I’m gonna fight to make sure that happens.”

In the middle of his speech, Caspar lost the fight against his tears and finally submitted, letting them run freely; Linhardt didn’t realize for a moment that he was also crying until he idly wondered why his vision was starting to get fuzzy.

Caspar might not have been good with words most of the time, but when he _was_ good with words, he was _very_ good with words.

He was so overwhelmed that he almost forgot it was _his_ turn to say his own vows; it wasn’t until Edelgard surreptitiously cleared her throat that he realized he was just staring love-struck and teary-eyed at Caspar, letting those words sink in, instead of following the intended path.

(He also saw her reach up to wipe a tear from her own eye when he was sure she thought no one was looking, but decided not to say anything. It wasn’t like he exactly had the high ground…)

“Caspar,” he said, glad his voice wasn’t wavering _too_ badly, although he cared more because he wanted to make sure his message came across clearly; he didn’t care about what anyone would have to say about it any other day, and if anyone was going to give him flack about crying on the day of his own wedding, he would gladly show them the door.

He hadn’t had any grand plans for what he wanted to say; he wasn’t the type to worry about that sort of thing, after all. But he’d thought of a _few_ things, knowing it would tip over from carefree to irresponsible to not give it _any_ thought before he got up in front of everyone.

All of that immediately flew out of his head at the sight of Caspar crying, grinning, looking to him in anticipation.

“Caspar,” he said again, his voice cracking slightly more on his second attempt, but he was determined to power through it. “We’ve been together quite literally as long as I can remember. There has never been a time in my life that you weren’t a part of it, so far as I’m concerned, and I have never intended for you to _not_ be a part of it, no matter who might have attempted to keep us apart. And even though you’ve certainly never made it easy, and in fact occasionally go out of your way to make it as _difficult_ as possible, there is absolutely nowhere I wouldn’t follow you, and absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe and sound. It means more to me than I’ll ever be able to say to not only have you in my life, but to never have to worry about whether or not you feel the same way, because even if it took you over ten years to finally admit you had feelings for me,” 

(He paused, just momentarily, to savour the way the guests chuckled, and the way Caspar pouted at him, especially when he realized he couldn’t interrupt in the middle of Linhardt’s vows to call him out for being a hypocrite since he had been just as slow to catch on,) 

“Ever since you finally told me how you feel, you’ve never stopped telling me, not once. And all I can say is that I promise to stay by your side, and I hope to make you feel even half as loved as you make me feel every day, and have always made me feel, ever since the day we met.”

Linhardt gripped Caspar’s hands even tighter, until his already pale knuckles turned white, if only to keep them from shaking. Caspar actually finally had to pull one of his hands away to wipe his eyes with the edge of his sleeve, and Linhardt took the chance to do the same.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, though. Even Hubert was dabbing at his eyes.

“By the power vested in me by the Imperial throne of Adrestia,” Edelgard said, once she was certain Linhardt had finished and now not hiding the fact that she was also tearing up, although she was doing a better job than most at not losing it completely. “I now declare you married. You may now kiss your husband.”

And really, Linhardt should have been expecting Caspar to tug him forward by their clasped hands and dip him into a dramatic kiss, which prompted a burst of whistles and applause from their guests, but as it turned out, he was still capable of being surprised.

As he wrapped his arms around Caspar’s neck, revelling in the way Caspar held him up so effortlessly with an arm wrapped around his back, and melted into the kiss that quickly turned into a second kiss, and then into a third, he knew he was more than happy with that. And in fact, he was certain that nothing would bring him more joy than spending the rest of his life being surprised, pleasantly or otherwise, by whatever Caspar had to throw at him. Discovering new things about his beloved, even though they had known each other their entire lives.

The fact that he was going to get to write an extremely smug letter to his father was a close second, though.


End file.
